Silence
by Perry-Dice
Summary: Sigyn speaks little, but listens well. That's exactly what makes her such an appealing companion to Loki. Time, age, and the events that become legends transform their connection. Myth becomes reality. SigynxLoki


There is no such thing as silence.

Sigyn has known this for as long as she can remember. When her parents would hush her, tell her to stay quiet in front of guests, command her silence while she listened to them, she could not believe them. Constantly, she heard the pulsing of her heart, the whistling of her lungs, the soft liquid squish of guts and muscles. And even when she would have given anything to obey, she could not make them silent.

Her parents were not highly ranked or greatly esteemed in the court of Asgard, but they were still Aesir of noble blood and thus Sigyn grew up in the splendid golden palace that constantly echoed with noise. She had maidens to wait on her and tell her to sit still while they plaited her hair. And Sigyn was a good child, fair yet without vanity, quiet yet without bashfulness, and clever yet without cruelty. Really, the only fault any one could find with her was some vagueness or blurriness of impression that made her almost impossible to notice.

When Sigyn was young, all the world seemed young and the great heroes of the next age played games in the gardens of the palace. The prince Thor ran wild with his friends, who possessed either the lineage or talent to penetrate his inner circle, and they went fishing in the stream. Sigyn gathered flowers with a few other girls beneath a tree, but when the rest of them moved on to a patch of cowslips, Sigyn stayed behind to rest in the shade. She closed her eyes and listened.

She heard the wind stirring the leaves, a thin rasping sound. She heard the far off laughs of other children, a indistinguishable murmur. She heard the scrape of a squirrels claw against the bark of the tree, grating as he scrabbled through the branches. She heard the persistent rhythms of her own body, churning and swirling with the stuff of life.

And then she heard the soft breath of another body. Sigyn looked up and squinting through the leaves she saw the silhouette of a boy with his legs wrapped around one of the sturdier branches. Sigyn stood up, curious, and shifted a branch aside so she could see him better. He was young and slender, with a thin pale face and dark hair. She recognized Loki, the second prince of Asgard, who carried already a reputation of mischief.

Suddenly he looked down and noticed her. For a second, their eyes meant as they both started with the abrupt connection. Then Loki grinned, not entirely without malice. He slowly raised a finger and pressed it to his lips. Sigyn understood and she smiled back at him.

In another minute Thor and his friends came dashing under the tree and were immediately pelted with dark red berries, overripe and bursting with juice. The Lady Sif sobbed as she frantically tried to pry the sticky fruit out of her long hair and Fandral's brand new tunic was permanently stained with maroon blotches.

From the nearby patch of cowslips, Sigyn watched as Thor shook his brother down from the great tree and Loki laughed wildly, his hands dripping dark red.

.

Sigyn listened and she heard more and more of Prince Loki. Women told stories to her mother of his wickedness, his wildness, his waywardness. Men joked with her father about his ingenious plans, his clever tricks, his crafty plots. Other children feared him, yet they loved him because he performed miracles and could solve any problem.

Sigyns listened.

The elder prince, Thor, remained the center of attention, but he and his brother became a sort of team, an uncertain alliance bound by love yet constantly challenged by adversity. More than once they came to blows. It was after one of these occasions that Sigyn met him again.

She was walking quickly, returning from her music tutor, and she took a shortcut through a narrow path between the walls and the stable. As she rounded the corner, she heard a thud that shook thatch lose from the stable roof and showered her with dust. Recoiling and coughing, Sigyn unexpectedly staggered into a body. Spinning around, she saw the prince Loki lurching to his feet and panting. His usually impeccable clothes were torn and rumpled and his sleek black hair fell over his face. He grinned at her.

"Hello again." He said, still a little breathless from his fall. Sigyn looked up, but could not find a rope or ladder he might have climbed down from. Loki noticed her gaze. "Sorry to drop in so suddenly, but I'm in a hurry. Well, I'm escaping, actually, from unfair confinement."

Sigyn nodded, still preoccupied with how he could have survived a fall from the top of the walls, at least 50 feet high at this point.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this little encounter," Loki continued, "although if memory serves you've helped to keep a little secret or two in the past."

Startled, Sigyn met his gaze. He clearly remembered her from their brief connection under the tree, and Sigyn was not used to being remembered.

"You don't say much do you?" Loki mused. "Do you think much? Or are you entirely silent?"

Sigyn flushed. Loki seemed to realize the cruelty of his comment and had the decency to look a little ashamed.

"I listen." Sigyn replied softly. "Because I don't know what to say."

"Excellent!" Loki said. "Someone who actually listens without already planning how they'll respond. You're a rare gem. What is your name?"

"Sigyn." She answered.

"Sigyn, you must call me Loki. Would you like to come with me? I am beginning to understand that this escape may require a partner in crime and you seem like the best candidate." He offered her his hand. Sigyn hesitated for a moment, then they joined hands and they ran.

Of course, the palace guard found them eventually, attempting to sneak through the bifrost hidden in suspiciously heavy saddlebags. But even though they dragged Loki back to the Allfather to accept punishment, and Sigyn's parents did not allow her to leave her chambers for weeks, they could not break the bond between them.

From then on they are bound to one another. Although she remains outside the tangle of his life, separate from the private tumults of his family and his kingdom, Sigyn stayed with him. Sigyn did not accompany Loki on his quests with Thor, nor did they speak much outside of a few brief acknowledgements, but she had his trust and perhaps foolishly, she gives him hers.

.

They were never friends. They were never anything like friends. Loki was often distant or coolly indifferent to her and Sigyn preferred to remain a shadow because she knew that the moment she became anything more than a ghost to him, he could destroy her.

Sigyn made a good accomplice. She was small and unassuming enough to slip past detection while Loki's reputation preceded him. Others began to call him "Silvertongue" and adults stopped leaving him unsupervised around their valuables.

Loki charmed the wizened old keeper of books while Sigyn slipped into the forbidden backrooms and found secret books only ever whispered about in the halls of Asgard. They spent long evenings barricaded in Loki's chambers while Sigyn struggled through ancient translations and Loki showed her how to slip another form over her own and how to find the delicate gauzy curtains between realms and run her fingers along the branches of Yggdrasil. Together they wove complex illusions too difficult for one to sustain. Loki guided her hand as Sigyn learned to spin a shield that would protect their private meeting from prying eyes. And of course, they invented their own way to see far beyond themselves, scrying strange lands and hearing snippets of indecipherable languages drifting through the cracks in reality.

Often, doors were shut to them and if they attempted to poke at the edges, the golden gleam of Heimdall's ever vigilant gaze blocked their path. Loki grew quickly resentful of this and soon began to plan expeditions farther beyond the borders of the castle.

One day they were making their way along a rocky slope across the bay from the golden palace. Loki walked gracefully along the narrow paths, years of training for battle working to his advantage. Sigyn struggled miserably along behind him, lamenting her flimsy cloth shoes. A patch of gravel sent her skidding down a small bank and she could not help but cry out in pain as the rough stone scraped the flesh from her leg.

Loki followed her down, looking irritated with her inadequacy. Picking some of the gravel out of her cuts, Sigyn tried to rise again, but Loki stopped her. His expression changed to one of glee as he pointed wordlessly to a deep crevasse leading into the rock behind her.

"Let's go inside!" He said eagerly. He hovered at the edge of the crack for a moment, peering into the darkness and then with a shrug leapt into it. Sigyn flinched as he was swallowed by the darkness, but she slid in after him, more cautiously.

After a moment of shuffling through the crack, Sigyn saw a faint light and followed it, groping at the walls. When she staggered out into the light, she was in a place she'd never been.

The sky was black and smoky with a pale sun casting a ghostly gleam over a rough sandy wilderness. Wind whipped her hair into her face and tiny shards of black rock stung against her cheek. Loki stood on a jagged promontory, his figure distorted, almost flickering in the windstorm. He turned towards her and beckoned, triumphant in their escape.

Sigyn walked slowly towards him, although he flickered like a candle. She walked towards the flame.

.

The world was growing older with them. New dark places began to open up. In the narrow room behind the library where they often met, Loki stood at the table with a book open in front of him. The room was dim, lit only by a greenish glow that turned Loki into a slender shadow.

Sigyn entered quietly and listened. After a moment, her ears adjusted and she could hear his quick, excited breathing, and the soft whisper of a spell fluttering around his fingers. When Sigyn crossed the room he turned, revealing a lantern with an odd, sickly flame.

"I want you to try something." He said curtly, gesturing to the book open in front of him. "I want to look somewhere, just a peek. But you'll need to hold the door for me."

Sigyn skimmed the text briefly. He had translated the spell into a nearly pronounceable language and her quick analysis told her that it seemed to be some sort of unlocking chant. She cast him a doubtful glance.

"It won't be all that difficult, but I can't concentrate on looking if I'm busy with the opening." Loki added impatiently. Sigyn pushed a braid behind her ear and continued to examine the spell. It was from one of the forbidden books they'd borrowed from the weapons vault earlier that week. She turned a page back to read what Loki might desire to look at, but he stopped her hand.

"Either do it or leave, I don't keep you here for company."

Stung, Sigyn dropped the page and began feeling for the curtain, delving into a seam between realms. She often did poorly with chanting spells, her voice cracking or fading into an indistinct mutter before she finished. Her tongue struggled to form the words and her throat caught a little.

Yet somehow, she opened a door. Faintly, she sensed Loki behind her, illuminating the entrance with his lantern. Then it came.

It was big, she could tell without seeing. She felt it moving her, her feet dangling, brushing the table. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she saw nothing but darkness. It moved through her lazily, utterly careless as it prodded at the world suddenly open to it. Faintly, almost numb, Sigyn could tell that she was screaming; yet it tore the sound away from her, rushing down her throat like a python.

It contemplated for a moment whether to move it's enormous bulk out into the realm of Asgard. Sigyn felt nearly deafened by its thought, a rumble that seemed to shake every part of her until she flew apart. She tried to listen, but she could not hear her heart, her breath, she could not hear anything but it, moving towards her, coming for them.

Something grabbed her hand and pulled. For a moment, Sigyn was caught and nearly torn. But the door began to swing shut and the hand pulled her back through, gripping her harder that it.

Gradually, she became aware that she was sitting on the floor of the library. The room was utterly dark now, except for a golden sliver of candlelight coming from under the door. Sigyn's ears rang. The pressure on her hand had not stopped.

Sigyn turned and saw Loki, his face pale and terrified. One of his hands clutched the page from the book, now torn and mangled in his trembling fingers. The other hand clutched her, fingernails digging into her skin. He tried to pull it away, but could not seem to shift his fingers. Sigyn touched the surface of their linked hands. They were frozen together, coated with a thin sheen of ice.

To her humiliation, Sigyn began to cry. Loki managed to collect himself enough to call for a bucket of water, which was brought discreetly. They soaked their hands until the feeling returned to Sigyn's fingers and they were pulled apart. Loki stared at his hand uncertainly, apparently impressed that he'd managed to pull out her back at all, but mystified by how he'd done it. He did not summon her for the rest of the month.

She had bruises from his nails, but at least he didn't let go and let her fall into that darkness.

.

It occurred to her one day that she was nearly fully-grown. Her long braids now fell over the swell of her breasts and her mother talked nervously of marriage, doubtful that any man would wed such a strange, silent girl with no charms or apparent intelligence. Sigyn felt distant from herself, preferring to absorb and learn, quietly collecting the secrets of the world.

Loki also had almost reached manhood. He grew tall, and although still quite thin, he acquired a hard, wiry musculature. His jaw hardened and his cheeks grew hollow as they lost the last of their babyish fat. He and his brother made a striking pair; both were about to become handsome, yet they retained enough childish grace that they were still beautiful.

After the incident with the unknown door, Sigyn and Loki ended their study of the spaces between realms. Loki concentrated his energies on illusion and mirage, and Sigyn assisted him, frequently being assigned to guess which object was of his creation and which existed before.

They spent less time in the darkness of the room behind the library and more time wandering the wilderness around the palace. Loki conjured flocks of birds or tantalizing dangling fruit, teasing Sigyn if she ever fell for the trick and reached out to pick one. Slowly she learned to spot his tricks. The illusions emitted a tiny hum, a slightly jarring dissonance that she could barely hear if she listened very hard.

He began to work on increasingly complex and intricate enchantments. One sunny afternoon he brought her what seemed to be a live rabbit with fur as soft as the real thing. When they sat reading by a stream he made brightly colored birds to sing in the trees with voices convincing enough to send the whole forest into a storm of chirping. He even tried them on himself, changing the shade of his hair to bright gold. Sigyn laughed at this, a rare reaction.

Loki learned faster than she did, possessing both a frighteningly sharp intellect and a mother willing to teach him. Thor did not attend any of these special tutoring sessions, and the Allfather arranged for him to begin training for war. Although Thor's natural ability was already astounding, he improved exponentially under the guidance of soldiers and soon he began to venture further afield, visiting Asgard's armies in foreign realms.

And then of course, he received the hammer.

Sigyn heard a hum all around the palace in the days prior and people murmured in anticipation, sensing an impending occasion. When the Allfather presented his son with Mjolnir, an incredible hammer fit not just for a warrior, but for a king, Sigyn listened as people begin to speak openly about when Thor will be named the heir.

Sigyn cared little for the hammer, a cold lump of metal with little relevance to her world, but she listened to the whispers as opinions took shape and predictions finally crawled out from the corners of the mind. The court talked. And when the court talked, Sigyn knew to listen.

On the day after Thor received his hammer and stumbled off, giddy with exhilaration, Sigyn visited Loki, calling at his chambers as she usually would when they had no arranged meeting spot. Although the guard stood outside of the door, all of the servants had been sent away and they lounged idly in the gardens. Sigyn knocked softly, then loudly when there was no response.

Uncertain, she paused and then pressed her ear gently to the door. At first she merely heard her own breathing, the shifting of the guard, the faint laughter of the servants in the garden. Sigyn closed her eyes and listened harder. Very softly, she could make out a faint sound. The best comparison she could make was the sound of grating, of friction, or even of dissonant music. A sound of wrongness.

Suddenly afraid, Sigyn pounded on the door. The guard cast her an irritable glance. Exasperated, Sigyn picked up her skirts and ran around to the garden below Loki's chambers. The curtain was drawn over his window. Using a trick Loki had taught her, Sigyn scaled a nearby tree, not caring as her dresses caught and tore, and then enchanted the closest branch to extend a little farther forward so that she could reach the window. The moment her foot left the branch, it shrank back, almost indignant at having been stretched. Sigyn clung precariously to the wall around the window before she managed to shove her foot down to pry up the window. Quickly, she dropped down into his room, landing heavily with too much weight on one ankle. She stumbled and fell, wincing as muscles stretched slightly further than they should.

Sprawled on the floor, her long braids falling over her face and her ankle smarting with pain, she glimpsed a pair of terrified eyes, peering at her from behind a nearby table.

Sigyn struggled into an upright position, and then she saw it. The thing looked almost exactly like Loki. It had his smooth dark hair, his prominent cheekbones, his narrow lips. It even moved the same way that he did, reserved without being shy or hesitant.

However, something was wrong with the eyes. They burned bright red in the pale face and the skin turned dark around them, a hint of icy blue creeping down into the cheeks. The thing turned its head and stared at Sigyn with those blood red eyes. It smiled. The teeth were pointed.

The real Loki lay curled beneath the table, gasping for breath.

"Go away." He shouted feebly. "I told you to go away."

Sigyn wasn't entirely sure whether he spoke to her or the mistake, the corrupted mirage, yet the failure clearly had too great a hold over him and he could not banish it alone. Sigyn looked with contempt at the malformed abomination, shabby work although an admirably ambitious attempt at total self-duplication, and with one decisive motion, she ripped it apart.

The illusion faded, melting into itself. Sigyn listened until she could tell that Loki's breathing had evened slightly. She crawled over to him.

"Shouldn't have tried that." He muttered, sounding embarrassed. "Should have known it would go wrong. Guess I'm not ready for much, I'll never be-"

To Sigyn's horror, his voice broke a little, but he quickly regained his control and glanced down at Sigyn's swelling ankle.

"What a fool, swinging in through the window like that. You've got to come in backwards. Let me wrap it for you." He snorted derisively, but seemed glad to busy himself with healing her foot.

He had drunk his own poison now, Sigyn thought as she stared at his back. The tricks were turning back on him and his love turned to poison. She would not always be there to catch it. Some poisons will burn.

.

They began to tell a story. It was a story that they all tell in pieces, slowly, over many cold nights by the fireside and many long afternoons in the great hall. The story didn't exist until Sigyn heard it told because before it formed into words it was only a sequence, a life, a moment.

When the people told the story they speak about Thor and Loki, the two brothers who venture out together across the realms. Thor has power, ability, fortitude, and Loki has wit and a blazing ambition that gets him into trouble as quickly as it gets him out.

Sigyn listened and she heard about a stolen hammer, a contest with a giant, a horse led astray. But when Loki returned, battered yet satisfied, he never spoke of his story. He never seemed to notice how he and his brother had become a legend.

She did not see him as often now that they were both grown. His tangle of family and power and adventure never tied in to her simple life. Her parents were no longer interested in her activities. Passively, they allowed their daughter to fade, her youthful beauty hardening into cold indifference. Her voice grew rough with disuse.

Yet she could still listen to the story, adjacent perhaps, but involved.

It was early morning and Thor had not returned. He had left the preceding morning with his closest comrades on a ship bound for the edges of the realm. Now a pale dawn broke over the golden palace, creating a shimmer across the bay so bright it was blinding. Sigyn stood on the bridge and closed her eyes. She heard the group of women around her, murmuring and fluttering with anxiety. Standing away from the crowd, yet no less attentive were the Allfather and his Queen, waiting at their balcony with no sound but the quiet morning breeze rustling their robes.

"A sail!" Cried a voice and the crowd around her took a deep breath as they drew themselves up, trying to spot the boat.

Already a mass of guards pushed through the crowds and down the stair to the harbor, eagerly waiting to welcome the ship. Sigyn squinted through the glare until she spotted the rapidly moving sail, speeding over the glittering waves. The wind was strong that morning and Sigyn heard the banners rippling on shore as the ship closed in on the harbor.

The crowd, previously filled with whispers and shuffling, went quiet when the ship finally dropped anchor. A young boy perched on his father's shoulders pointed down suddenly.

"The lord Hogun has come ashore! He's speaking with a 's- The prince, Thor is coming ashore!" The boy called out to the waiting crowd. "He's waving, but Volstagg supports him. I think he's been injured, he limps."

A distressed murmur ran through the crowd at the news. Thor's mood was jovial as he limped to the healing rooms with the aid of Volstagg and Fandral came up to assure the people that Thor was not badly wounded, but merely had a glorious battle with a sea serpent and that the tale will be told a victory feast that night.

At this news the crowd dispersed back into the palace. Sigyn remained standing on the bridge, peering down at the ship. She could still see Loki, standing at attention on the peer as he conferred with the guard. Irresolutely, he turned towards the palace, seemingly reluctant to enter. Although he was no more than a dark speck to her eyes, Sigyn could almost hear him sigh as he finally turned to leave the ship. Sigyn shivered once, then also returned to the golden walls.

Aimlessly, she wandered through the halls, considering her reaction. In general, Sigyn would feel nothing but passive indifference to the joys and sorrows of other families or to the distant turbulence that naturally occurred from time to time. Yet somehow, this news had brought something more than numb acceptance to her. Irritatingly, she found that she was anxious. Not for the recovery of Thor, she was certain that he would return to his adventuring within the week. She was anxious for Loki, a man she could even with full honesty call a friend.

Distractedly, Sigyn meandered up the stairs towards her room. Her long braids felt heavy on her head and she climbed slowly. She heard the muffled sound of voices from above her and then suddenly the grinding slam of a heavy door. Quick footsteps came closer and closer to her and then suddenly Loki appeared on the landing directly in front of her. Both of them reeled backwards for a moment in surprise, then Sigyn awkwardly shuffled to the side to let him pass.

His lips were tightly drawn and bloodless, but he motioned her sharply to follow him. Sigyn obeyed, struggling slightly to keep up with his pace. He led her down into the depths of the palace, the dark warren of passages and locked doors they explored so fruitlessly as children. She understood then where he was going. One of the little cracks, the tiny weak points where one world blends into another lay down there and he needed her help to pry open the reluctant gate.

They rarely used this gate. Although once discovered it had been a source of fascination for Loki, he was never reckless enough to explore it fully. But that day he nearly ripped open the door and suddenly they were standing on the ice, a bitter wind sweeping over them and howling through the glaciers.

Jotunheim unfolded in front of her and Sigyn wrapped her arms around her, shuddering at the sudden drop in temperature. Loki seemed unbothered by the cold, but his tightly controlled calm seemed to unravel. His mouth twisted into a snarl.

"Now this, this is a bad idea." He began, as though continuing a previous conversation. "This is rash, this is foolish. My idiot brother would love it."

"Is he badly hurt?" Sigyn whispered timidly and Loki whirled around, as though he'd forgotten she was there. Bitterly, Loki laughed.

"Of course not. Dislocated shoulder, minor bruising, twisted ankle perhaps. All his own fault, trying to pull that beast aboard. I warned him, but of course, how could he stoop to listen to anyone that would come between him and his pride. As though he could rule an entire-" Loki spat the word out, but then cut himself off, shaking his head.

"Do they blame you?" Sigyn said, understanding by his silence that she had found the root of his anger. Loki turned his back to her again and stared out at the ice, black hair whipping around his face.

"Thor will recover. And they'll rejoice. And they'll never know how unready he still is, how unable. Father will never…" Loki spoke in a dull monotone then sighed with deep frustration.

Sigyn stepped forward on a whim and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder. He said nothing and she wondered uncomfortably when to remove it. She closed her eyes and listened, then jerked back from him.

There was a scream inside of him. She had heard it, yet not with her ears. If she concentrated hard she could hear a faint echo of that anger within him that she had somehow accidentally overheard. He seemed entirely unaware of her intrusion, still gazing up at the cold, unfamiliar stars.

Guilty, as though she had been eavesdropping, Sigyn retreated from him and reopened the portal. Loki, seeming to realize the necessity of return, followed her through.

She left him quickly, shaken, still unable to forget the scream.

.

The Allfather, clad in impeccably smooth golden armor and a rich red cloak that swept around his feet, did not face his second son on the night that he named Thor heir. The light in the hall was a warm yellow, flickering gently, each flame dancing in the shining goblets and plates lining the long tables of the hall. The Allfather had only one eye left and he kept in fixed on the glossy ravens that sat on their perches next to the throne. They preened, cleaning their thick black feathers, but their beady eyes flashed as Thor knelt before his father.

When Thor rose to his feet, now standing with the stature of a king, the people drank to his health. The Allfather raised his glass, a rare smile stretching his gnarled face. Queen Frigga drank heartily to her eldest son, her eyes shining with deepest tenderness and pride.

But next to her at the head table sat Loki, who while graciously applauding and beaming at his brother, seemed to find it impossible to choke down more than a sip of ale. An ascetic, some would say with a hint of scorn, bound to his scholarly pursuits and unable to rule as his brother will.

Loki smiled and smiled and ate nothing. He showed them teeth without function, a body without fuel, and joy without reason.

But Sigyn was not concerned with what she saw. The show washed over her as she sat, sweating and shivering at one of the lesser tables, unable to block out the din. The happy sound of conversation and applause seemed far away compared to the deafening roar of anxiety, jealousy, guilt, and pain that spoke only to her innermost ears.

Her mother felt her forehead with some concern, but Sigyn knew they would never allow her to leave an important event this early. As her mother's fingers brushed over her hair, she could hear a faint inner voice sigh.

"Disappointment. Always so weak."

Sigyn flinched away from the touch. Resolutely she focused on Loki, always impeccably controlled, always well-mannered, always ten steps ahead of everyone else. But even he looked faded and tired as the banquet continued and she watched as he pushed back his chair and bid everyone a formal goodnight.

Sick with the overwhelming noise, Sigyn lurched to her feet and stammered an apology for her headache. Desperate to find somewhere quiet and open, she staggered towards a door, a balcony with cool night air and quiet night sounds.

But when she burst out onto the balcony, door slamming shut behind her, she was not alone. Startled, Loki whirled around to face her. Caught unexpectedly, his expression was vulnerable.

"What are you-?" He gasped, then smiled wryly. "But you always find me, don't you? I can never escape. It's always you, in the dark waiting for me, ready to listen."

He tried to mock her, get her to leave, but Sigyn merely stared at him. Her breathing evened out and she felt calmer, away for the turmoil in the banquet hall.

The night outside was dark, but the sky was filled with stars. The swirling nebulas and galaxies painted a dizzying pattern of color on the velvety black canvas with stars casting a silvery light over the golden hall. Sigyn breathed slowly and her breath turned to fog in the cold air, spiraling away on a gentle breeze. The bay was smooth, like a shimmering mirror, capturing the cold beauty of the sky and wearing it like a masquerade.

"I never expected him to pick me, you know. But that didn't stop me from wanting it." Loki's voice cut through the quiet. "Was I not born to it? Was I not better prepared? Am I not equal in every way?"

Agitated, Loki paced along the edge of the balcony.

"So really, perhaps I am only reacting because not a single person has even bothered to act surprised. Not even my mother. Because everyone already knew, that little secret shame, that he loves Thor and… fears me." Loki broke off abruptly and squeezed the railing of the balcony until his knuckles were white and bloodless. He bowed his head, and pressed his eyes tightly shut, shaking slightly.

Dimly, Sigyn was aware that he could be crying.

His hand grew white as a corpse, and Sigyn knew that the poison inside of him would burn and he would shake until the entire realm came tumbling down. She had to do something, so again she reached out, dreading what she would hear.

She wrapped her arms around him gently and pressed her head against his trembling back and she heard that quietest voice.

"Something is wrong with you and you know it. You've known forever that something is wrong, and one day everyone will know."

The pain in her head mounting, Sigyn held on tight until the shaking stopped. She could not stop the poison, but she could listen.

She can always listen.

.

Sigyn took to her rooms. The noise in her head was nearly unbearable when she walked about the palace and she had no reliable method of shutting it out yet. She sent for books on controlling the mind, on shielding, on locks and keys and spent the hours pouring over them in the relative peace of her bedchamber. Occasionally a maid would enter to braid her hair or offer food and Sigyn would sit silent, embarrassed as she accidentally learnt of affairs with stable boys or fights with friends.

Her mother and father were considering sending for healers. Sigyn could sense that discordant clash of concern and shame. Sigyn would not go, for if she were to say that she could hear the voices of other people in her head, they would not understand.

With grim determination, Sigyn roused herself one morning and sent for her maids. She gritted her teeth as they braided her hair and she ordered them to prepare one of her fine dresses as she planed to call on friends. As they made her ready, attempting to hide their surprise, Sigyn tried to focus on quieter sounds, shutting out their thoughts as she listened for the gentle stirring of insect wings near the window.

When she was ready, Sigyn steeled herself and left the room, imagining music in her mind to drown out the shock of her parents when she bid them good morning and left for a visit to her aunt and uncle.

Sigyn had barely made it around the corner when an enormous clamor burst forth around her. She cried out in pain and clutched at her head. A guard, in full armor with a drawn sword, came sprinting up the passage.

"Return to your rooms, the defenses are compromised. The frost giants have breached the weapons vault!" He called and his fear and anger bellowed inside his head.

Nearly delirious with pain, Sigyn clutched at the wall and she stumbled backwards. More guards were clattering down the stairs, towards the vault. Sigyn slid to the floor, crawling backwards. A trickle of blood dripped from her nose and a wave of nausea sent her reeling as she dragged herself back away from the noise.

She wiped the blood away with the fine woolen sleeve of her gown and heaved her body upright. When she burst back into her family's apartments, her mother gave a long sigh of exasperation.

"Jotuns in the palace. We have to stay inside." Sigyn managed to gasp before sliding to the floor. Her mother leapt to her feet immediately, calling for a maid to help her shift a large chest in front of their door and her father raced to find his spear.

The enemies were vanquished soon enough, however, and Sigyn's parents quickly grew tired of her increasingly reclusive state.

It was at that time, though, that she stopped hearing regular chatter and began hearing news. A cousin burst in to say that Thor has been banished for a reckless raid on Jotunheim. An official looking soldier knocked on the door with a notice that the Allfather has begun the Odinsleep. A confused child cried at the door, seeking refuge, saying Loki has gone mad and battles his brother on the bridge.

Last of all Sigyn received a personal visit from one more highly honored than any who had ever called on their household. Heimdall, who could see beyond any of his peers, greeted her with a camaraderie born from a deeper understanding than anyone she had met before. She knew instantly that his golden hawk's eyes had been watching her and he knew of the trial she faced. He told her simply that Loki had fallen out of his sight and asked for her assistance.

She followed him out to the ruins of the bifrost, a jagged shattered jewel sticking out into the darkness. Sigyn sat on the edge, letting her legs dangle over the void and she listened. But there was no scream. Not a whisper of Loki. He had passed out of earshot.

She sighed as she heard the distant roar of water and the far off shivering of stars. Not silent. Not yet.

.

They began to call her a witch. Not out loud usually, occasionally whispered when she was far away.

Sigyn grew better able to distinguish the crushing wall of noise and focus her attention on specific sounds. She trained often, read voraciously, and had not spoken a word in months.

Her skin grew dry and papery and she slid silently through the halls of the palace, never entirely certain how much she was supposed to know. Breathing accelerated and pulses quickened when she walked past others. Her eyes seemed cloudy and veiled, a misty vacant expression developed from disuse. She could easily find her way by sounds.

She spent many hours standing at the window of her room, listening to the faint musical clinks of tool rebuilding the ruins of the bifrost. Occasionally she listened briefly to Thor or one of his companions giving orders as they paced restlessly about Asgard. She heard the clatter of their swords every afternoon as they sparred, keeping themselves sharp for the day when they were eventually unleashed upon the world again. Thor's voice had gotten softer.

Other times she listened carefully and heard the echoes of other realms. The howling cries of the wind on Jotunheim. The growls and grindings of trouble on Vanaheim. Even the faint chirping chaos of voices on Midgard would occasionally drift up from the void.

And sometimes she listened to the gulls over the bay for hours at a time.

She took to wearing grey and often a veil over her face so people would not stare at her deadened eyes. She did not mind playing her role. She would be a wizened old witch who knew too much and spoke too little. No one cared to examine her further. There was only one who found her useful, important, or worthwhile and he was a madman who fell into darkness.

Idly, she thought that she might have gone mad as well. The thought did not bother her particularly.

The healers had special methods for dealing with those whose minds were unwell, but she refused to go, unwilling to let go of the power that defined her now. But one morning, she was taken there against her will. She had gone out to listen to the gulls, a thick cloak to shield her from the fine misty rain. They later told her that she had fallen to the ground and although she made no sound, her mouth was wide with terror. She had writhed on the ground and clawed at the guards who eventually had to drag her away from the edge of the bridge. Sigyn lay placidly in the clean white room and laughed silently, shaking until tears ran from her useless eyes.

She did not tell why. They would know soon enough. Something would rise back out of the darkness. She had heard the distant scream.

He returned in chains. Sigyn snapped abruptly awake the minute that she heard him enter the palace. The clink of metal echoed through the wide, open halls as he was brought before the Allfather. Her heart began to pound and she threw off the bedcovers, shivering at the sudden cold against her skin. The healers had not found her fit to return to her own rooms for a few weeks, but she'd answered their questions with the slight advantage of overhearing exactly what they wanted her to say.

Sigyn wrapped herself quickly in a woolen robe to soften the chill and went to her window. She listened for the familiar sound of Loki and it took her a moment to find it. He had changed since she last saw him. Obviously, her own hearing had sharpened considerably in the time they were apart and now with perfect clarity she could hear the lightening fast, deadly swirl of his thoughts. As she expected they had the lethal grace of a serpent and the savage mischief of a wolf, constantly spinning plans within plans.

But his mind sounded different. Something had broken in him; there was an electrifying clang of madness behind that ever-present scream.

It took a moment for the feeling to percolate through to her consciousness. Sigyn realized in a moment of clarity, unfocused eyes staring blindly out at the cloudy winter sky, that she was furious with Loki.

She had heard the agony of the Midgardians. She had heard the panicked shouting, the shattering glass, and, loudest of all, an explosion that echoed through the limitless void to her ears. And she hated him for causing it.

She took a deep breath and listened to the soft fall of snowflakes on the roof. They whispered quietly through the air. Abruptly, one large wet flake landed directly in one of her eyes. Shocked and blinking rapidly with pain, Sigyn recoiled from the window. She rubbed her eyes for a moment to clear them of water as the snowflake melted. When she blearily opened them again, Sigyn found herself actually looking around her room for the first time in months.

Perhaps it is fate, she thought, that Loki returns and she finally opens her eyes. She knew what she needed to do.

No ordinary civilians were allowed to visit his cell, but ordinary civilians never had a childhood companion who taught them every secret passage in the palace. Sigyn easily bypassed the first few locked doors between her and the highest security cells of the dungeon. A spell of illusion cast a passable visage of a guard over her face and with the help of a distraction charm, she walked through the doors of the prison.

His cell was well furnished and he sat reading behind a hazy orange barrier. Sigyn could hear the mechanical hum of the wall as she approached the cell. She did not speak to him, merely stood there and stared until he noticed her.

His cheeks had grown hollow and his sunken eyes had a glint of madness. His black hair had grown longer. Like her, he had grown into his reputation. When he noticed her he did not start, but his eyes widened, then he grinned.

"My first visitor, what an honor. I should have known it would be you. How did you get past my charming protectors?" His voice was polite and conversational. Sigyn did not grace him with an answer, but scornfully displayed her guard illusion. His eyebrows rose imperceptibly.

"Impressive, although the face needs some work. You've been practicing without me. Perhaps you should ask the witch, my so-called mother, for tips. It's her specialty." He drawled nonchalantly and his casual dismissal of the Queen burned like acid in her ears.

"Stop." She rasped, her voice rough with disuse. He laughed lightly.

"Oh, are you angry with me? I'm shocked. You were always such a devoted little minion." He sneered. Sigyn rolled her eyes.

"Stop pretending you can hide from me. Stop acting like you can escape me. I know everything about you. I hear everything. You cannot hide from me." She hissed in her grating throaty voice. "So stop pretending."

She held his gaze for a few moments, satisfied to hear his heart rate accelerate. She grinned at him, baring her teeth and then she turned to leave. He continued to stare as she left and she heard the soft rustle of his book as it fell to the ground.

.

When the dark elves attacked Asgard, Sigyn sat in her room, unwilling to move to a safer place despite her parent's desperate pleas. She sat on her bed as a blast shattered her window. She curled up on her side as the tower shook. The side of a ship ripped through the room next to hers. Sigyn closed her eyes and pressed her hands over her ears. A trickle of blood ran down into her hair.

She was nearly deaf during the Queen's funeral. Everything was muffled and strange. Her ears did not stop ringing for days.

Finally, her hearing cleared when the piercing sweet note of alignment trumpeted throughout the nine realms. And this time Heimdall came to tell her that Loki gave his life heroically, redeemed at last. She nodded and then crumpled, inexplicably stricken by grief.

It was like a hole has opened up inside of her, a gaping ragged wound that she was desperate to hide. Unable to contain it, she ran from Hiemdall. Blindly she sprinted outside, wanting clear, cool air. Her feet crushed a patch of cowslips and she clutched at a tree for stability. She stayed there for a moment, panting beneath the tree. A twig snapped.

Sigyn spun around to see the Allfather, withdrawing from the shade of the same tree. Sigyn flushed and knelt, stammering an apology.

"Leave me girl," The Allfather said distantly, "You disturb my thoughts."

"Of course." Sigyn whispered, and she turned to leave.

Then she heard a sound.

A tiny hum. A slight dissonance. Just a barely perceptible sense of wrongness.

Slowly Sigyn faced the Allfather again and she smiled. He seemed shocked with her brazen disobedience, preparing to summon a guard. Sigyn walked towards him and stretched her hand out. He stepped back, readying his spear. Languidly, Sigyn stepped past the spear and placed her hands on either side of his face.

Then, acting on nothing but wild intuition, she pressed her lips to his. The shock caused his illusion to flicker and Loki stood before her again.

He froze for a moment, exposed although they were shielded from view by the tree. Then to her surprise he kissed her back.

For a moment, everything was silent, there was nothing but him wrapping his arms around her. Sigyn held her breath and there was nothing but silence, but she listened harder. A soft noise, a heartbeat. The quiet drumming of a heart.

There is no such thing as silence.


End file.
